Arabella

Contents

Chapter. Page.

I. A First Journey 5

II. Arrival in the City . . .' 13

Chapter I. A First Journey

Arabella stood thoughtfully there on that ridge of land, where the brown earth was studded with daisies and mulleins, the common children of the soil. The sky was a clear gold at the horizon, and Arabella, gazing thereon, pondered on something she had just heard. She had suddenly become an heiress. She looked down on her plain, brown frock, at her coarse shoes, and at her hands roughened by work about the house. She had been the orphan, the charity-child, and now —

Her gaze slowly turned from the golden skies to the house, wherein she had spent her childish years. It was large, barn-like, of a dull, cheerless brown, altogether bare and uninviting. The glint of the sun shone upon the attic window of the room wherein she had been lodged. It was the one spot which she regarded with affection. It represented home. Her eyes rested there now, wistfully, with something of longing and of affection. As she stood thus, she heard a voice calling and went slowly towards the house. There was Mrs. Christie waiting for her with a new expression upon her rugged face and a look in the dull eyes as if a light had been suddenly kindled there.

“Arabella,” she called, “come in and eat your dinner. We’ll have to go to the city this afternoon. ’ ’

Arabella glanced at her quickly. Her breath came fast. She had never been to the city; she had always longed painfully to go, since to her it was a wonderland. Yet she felt a sudden catch in her throat. She thought, perhaps, she was going forever, and she remembered vividly, painfully, her familiar little room, bare and miserable though it was, her one friend, a woolly, brown-haired dog, and the woods and fields, whither she went in her few leisure hours. She asked, therefore, with something of a gasp in her voice “Not — not for always?”

The woman looked at her curiously as she answered curtly “No, not for always.”

Arabella without further remark followed her passively into the dining-room, where the

A FIRST JOURNEY table was laid as usual, with thick, crockery cups, chipped and otherwise unsightly, and where Silas Christie already sat, heavy-featured and taciturn, taking no manner of notice of the child. Even the recent change in her fortunes had excited no apparent interest in him. In ' the long years of his residence there he had grown in some sort to resemble those clods of earth upon which he daily worked during the long, summer months. Of late years he scarcely ever read the daily papers. He merely existed. The amount which he made yearly from his farming sufficed to give him a rude sort of comfort. He asked no more.

With Mrs. Christie it was otherwise. True, she, too, had been dulled by the dreary monotone of her cheerless existence. But within her smouldered, as sparks amongst ashes, some fire of imagination, some gleam of her old, girlish enthusiasm.

Arabella had suddenly become to her an object of keen interest, as if a gold mine with more or less limited possibilities had been suddenly discovered upon their premises. She began to dream dreams, realizing as Arabella had not yet done, the power of wealth. Tong dead visions woke within her of a black silk dress, a velvet hat with feathers, and other finery wherewith to dazzle the neighbors. She had almost given up church, partly for reasons connected with her wardrobe, though, in fact, the neighbors mostly frequented every other place of worship than the Catholic. Still, the churchward road lay in the direction of many of the homesteads and she saw herself mentally proceeding there, resplendent. This was her one weakness. Otherwise she was a woman of unusual and unbending strength of character, which had lent her a certain hardness.

Arabella devoured her share of the boiled beef and potatoes, and the coarse bread, washed down with water. Then she helped as usual with the dishes, after which she was bidden to go and make ready for the journey. Her little room had an oddly unfamiliar aspect that day. She looked around at the rough, unpainted washstand and chairs, the deal table, and that rudely-contrived recess in the corner for her clothes, hidden by a faded curtain.

She proceeded presently to that receptacle, after the other preliminaries of her toilet, and took down her best jacket and skirt. They were of a nondescript color, and scarcely less shabby than the brown frock she was wearing. She surveyed them with complacency, however, her untrained eye failing to note their deficiencies. As she dressed, she regarded affectionately her

A FIRST JOURNEY few treasures — two or three colored prints cut out of a Christmas newspaper and stuck upon the wall; a cardboard box with a glass cover, enshrining a rose, which had been a birthday gift from Mrs. Christie, and a book of fairy tales. This latter had created for her an entire new world, to which she compared people, things and events.

She had scarcely completed her costume by an ugly and unpicturesque hat, trimmed by Mrs. Christie’s unskillful hand, when she heard the latter’s voice calling her at the foot of the stairs. She gave one last look about the room, as though she were bidding it farewell, and then ran down to join her travelling companion. Mrs. Christie was quite pale with emotion, and, to Arabella’s eyes, quite resplendent in an old-fashioned costume of dark green serge. As the two were about setting out, Trot, the brown spaniel, came leaping and barking about Arabella, supposing that she was going for a ramble in the woods, and that he was to be of the party.

“You go and put that dog in the barn,” ordered Mrs. Christie sharply, and Arabella, calling the dog after her, ran round the side of the house, and stooping down to pet the woolly head and bid her favorite good-bye, she shut the deceived and disappointed animal into the outhouse, whence his dismal whines and scratching at the door pursued Arabella until she was actually off the premises. As the travellers finally started, Silas Christie, heavy-eyed and ponderous, stood in the doorway looking after them, and taking the pipe from his mouth to call out a word or two of warning.

“Don’t take the wrong train, mother,” — this was his familiar name for his wife — “and don’t you get lost down to the city. ’ ’

To these unnecessary instructions Mrs. Christie vouchsafed no reply, only throwing back a hurried “Good-bye,” to her husband, and seizing her satchel in one hand and holding Arabella by the other, she hastened down the road.

They arrived at the station nearly an hour too soon for the express which was to convey them into the city. Scarcely anyone had as yet appeared, and the two sat down forlornly, very close together, and feeling more in sympathy than they had ever been before. A sense of blank desolation, in fact, came over them, chilling the pleasant glow of anticipation. When, at last, however, the station began to fill with hurrying feet, and an acquaintance or two, who were setting out for the great journey, and seemed undisturbed by the circumstance, threw them a friendly greeting, their spirits began to rise.

A FIRST JOURNEY

With one last bound of the heart, Arabella beheld the huge, puffing, gleaming monster coming up out of the distance, and realized that she was really going upon a journey. She cast a farewell look around upon the road by which she and her companion had lately come, upon the fields and the trees, browning now and turning to the sere and yellow under the touch of autumn, and then she was hurried aboard. There had never been any remarkable sympathy between her and Mrs. Christie, but oh, how profoundly thankful she felt that that strong and self-reliant personage was with her. It was tolerably clear, moreover, from the strong grip of the other’s hand, that she fully shared this sentiment.

Once comfortably seated, however, on the plush-covered seats, which appeared very magnificent to Arabella, with their valise and other impedimenta, in the shape of a small hand-bag and umbrella, securely bestowed, they began to look around them with something like cheerfulness of spirit. This was still farther increased by the sight of their neighbors and acquaintances, likewise comfortably ensconced, and smiling recognition at them.

Arabella fairly thrilled when she heard the parting whistle, a wild shriek from the engine, and the conductor’s stentorian “All aboard ! M

Then the first movement was apparent — very slowly at first, then quicker, the train began to move out of the station. One by one the familiar objects disappeared, and in a very brief interval of time, as the locomotive drew the cars upon their steaming, unsteady course, Arabella, with a tremulous joy, more than half a We, experienced the delights of travel.

Chapter II. Arrival in the City

The light faded slowly out of the sky, the landscape grew dim, and the train sped on through the darkness. Mrs. Christie, imitating the nonchalance of her neighbors, settled her head back upon the velvet cushions, and, wearied by her early rising and the unwonted excitement of the day, fell into a doze. But Arabella looked out with strained, eager eyes into the gloom, striving now and again to catch some object, and thinking wonderful thoughts. She scarcely noticed the passage of time until at last the occasional groups of lights, denoting some town or village, began to grow numerous and concentrated, and once more, with a quick beating of the heart, Arabella felt that the city was near.

As she saw the passengers beginning to collect their small bits of luggage and to re-arrange their costumes, she felt that her surmise was correct, and she touched Mrs. Christie upon the arm. The latter started up, confused for the moment, and uncertain of her whereabouts, while the train thundered on through the tunnel, and the brakeman, hurrying through the cars, announced:

“New York.”

That was a thrilling moment, though with Arabella the awe just then predominated over the joy. She clung closely to her companion, as the latter summoned to her aid all her native energy. Together they threaded their way through the dizzying crowds. One of their acquaintances, the son of a neighboring farmer, who by reason of his business as a commercial traveller was held in great repute, advanced to Mrs. Christie, inquired with kindly interest as to her destination, and made an offer, which was eagerly accepted, to put them both on board the cable car. This, he explained, would take them to their very door. He carried his solicitude so far as to give a friendly hint to the conductor, who promised to look after the two women.

They were a quaint and somewhat forlornlooking pair in their countrified costumes, both of which had been resurrected and bore evident marks of being months behind the fashion. Of this they were thus far happily unconscious. The cable car pursued its way along Fortysecond Street, turning downwards at Third Avenue. The noises seemed deafening to Arabella,

ARRIVAL IN THE) CITY the crowds terrifying. She glanced, from time to time, at Mrs. Christie, who sat bolt upright, never moving a muscle, and looked as if she were undergoing a terrible ordeal. When they had gone a few blocks down Third Avenue, the conductor, jerking the bell, cried:

‘ ‘ Here you are ! ’ ’

To this address no one responded, but each began to look at his neighbor to know for whom it was meant. At last the functionary, striding towards the two unconscious women, informed them, with a certain gruff kindness, that “here was their street. ’ ’

The passengers descended and stood looking helplessly about them. The car sped on its way, and Mrs. Christie said to Arabella:

“My sister lives in that street, quite close to the corner. ’ ’

But which corner ? They surveyed each one in turn. On one corner was a thriving grocery, and next door to it a tall tenement. On another a big department store, extending nearly half the block and closed for the night. A third was a liquor store with a red light burning at the door and sounds of revelry from within, which caused the two women to turn away. The fourth was a small and dingy dwelling, which somehow looked more encouraging.

“I guess it’s the second door after that,” Mrs. Christie exclaimed. “Let’s try it, anyhow.” They both brightened up at the bare prospect that this might be their destination, and paused in front of a small structure, the lower story of which consisted of a bright- looking fruit shop. Therein they found a clean and civil German woman, and with her aid discovered that the number over the door, obscured by the darkness, corresponded to that which Mrs. Christie had inscribed upon a slip of paper. The rosy and benignant mistress of the shop further informed them that the Fraulein Norris lived upstairs, and came out to show them a neighboring door and a narrow staircase, which led to her quarters.

Mrs. Christie thanked her cordially, and following the given directions, mounted a pair of clean and freshly-painted stairs, covered with a bright-colored jute carpet. They presently found themselves at a door, and quite unacquainted with the use of the electric bell indicated by the button at the side, Mrs. Christie braced herself for action. She had already recovered much of her resolute and energetic bearing, and as Arabella hung in the background she knocked loudly at the door.

There was no answer at all for a moment or two, and Arabella’s heart began to sink. She

ARRIVAL IN THE CITY felt that if this were the wrong place, and if they were really lost in the wilderness of the great city, she could not go out again into that darkness, now and again relieved as it was by those glaring lights, or that silence alternating with hideous clamor. Suppose, thought she, that there was no Miss Norris here, or that she was even more formidable than Arabella, until this memorable day, had held Mrs. Christie to be. The prospect was terrifying.

Moreover, the girl, strong as she was, began to feel utterly weary. Unwonted excitement is a sure cause of fatigue, and the emotions of the day had been so many and varied as to produce a complete exhaustion and an almost paralyzing numbness. She had also eaten less than usual in the hurry of departure, and felt both hungry and weak. In her present mood Arabella was convinced that she hated the big city, with its noise and its jostling crowds, and almost wished herself back in her little attic room, with the quiet sense of freedom and security which she enjoyed when the elder people had retired and she was at liberty to dispose of her time as she saw fit, provided only that she did not burn more than her allotted piece of candle.

Those few moments of suspense were altogether the most trying of the day. It seemed as if the door would never be opened. She was sure that if Mrs. Christie’s sister were not there, or should refuse to receive them, that she must let fall from her tired eyes those tears that were gathering there, and sit down in utter weariness upon the stairs, powerless to go farther. So far, however, with the self-control which adverse circumstances had engendered, she had given no outward nor visible sign of her inward discomposure.

Her companion was disturbed by no such apprehensions. She knew that she had the number and the street right, having copied them from her relative’s own letter, and she knew her sister. Her only fear pointed to the chance that the latter might have been absent, and had not received the letter announcing their arrival. Her anxiety awakened by this conjecture, she pounded with still more vigorous knuckles upon the door. There was no mistake about the quality of the knock. It echoed and re-echoed within; it resounded down the stairs. At last the two wayfarers began to hear responsive sounds from within.

In the first place, the mewing of a cat, which sounded precisely as if it were answering the summons, and caused Arabella to feel like laughing hysterically. In the second place, the opening of some inner door, a distinct noise as of frizzling, and lastly a curious sound of shuf-

ARRIVAL IN THE CITY fling feet hastily approaching, which caused the girl’s heart to beat more quickly and her pulses almost to throb. She knew not what she was going to see.

Next instant the door was thrown wide open, and Arabella stared with all her might at the singular little figure which presented itself upon the threshold, and the like of which the girl thought she had never seen before.

As she drew in her breath sharply, however, and stood far back against the wall, it became apparent to her that their wanderings were over, and that they were at least secure of a night’s lodging and a place to rest their weary bones. For this is what she saw and heard.

Chapter III

Mrs. Christie’s Sister.

Upon the threshold stood the tiniest, the whitest, the quaintest-looking woman imaginable. Her hair was snow-white, and fastened in a knot at the top of her head, whence descended, on either side, a bunch of curls. Her face was of a deadly paleness, enlivened by the gleam of a pair of bright brown eyes. Her costume was for the moment all of a white, since a large linen apron, long-sleeved and high-necked, enveloped her completely. Somehow, the apron and the curls presented an incongruous appearance. Arabella thought at once of a doll she had seen at a bazaar, springing on wires.

But the glance of the brown eyes was quick, vivacious, above all kindly; and Arabella was reassured even before she heard the cordial welcome uttered in a small, chirping voice, which seemed to proceed as from an automaton. She flew at her tall sister, who stood stiff, straight and embarrassed, being quite unaccustomed to demonstrations of any sort. Yet there was a grim kindliness in her expression such as Arabella had never perceived there before.

“Well, sister,” piped the chirping voice, “it’s good to see you again, and in my own home, too; my tiny, little home. And who’s that behind you? Why, of course, it’s Arabella, whom I never have seen, but of whom I’ve often heard. Come, Arabella, and give me a kiss.”

The girl so addressed, and to whom such an invitation had never before been extended, did not respond to the invitation, but stood twisting her fingers and shifting from one foot to the other. The little woman, with alight, pleasantsounding laugh, darted at her and kissed her with so much cheery kindliness that the tears started to Arabella’s gray eyes. From that time forward the two were the best of friends.

“And now come in, both of you. Here I am keeping you both standing, and I am sure you are tired most to death, and chilled, and famished for something to eat. ’ *

As the travellers crossed that hospitable threshold their nostrils were met by the most savory and delightful smells proceeding from the kitchen, which made Arabella, at least, realize how very hungry she was. The frizzling sound, much louder now, was clearly from the same source, and the hostess, bidding them take off their things, first there in her parlor, rushed breathlessly back to the culinary tasks which their arrival had evidently interrupted.

MRS. CHRISTIE’S SISTER

Arabella, as she followed Mrs. Christie’s example and removed her hat, coat and gloves, surveyed the apartnent. It was so small that, after the barn-like spaciousness of the Christie homestead, it resembled a toy, or a box from which had just popped out the kind little woman. Tiny as was the room, however, it contained a sofa and two big arm-chairs, the latter before a miniature fire-place, full, just then, of glowing coals. Curtains of some heavy, but bright-colored material shut out the darkness. A drugget of warm red, which appeared superfine to Arabella, but which was in fact of the coarsest and most ordinary description, covered the floor. A few prints, likewise of the most cheerful hue, adorned the walls. An air of cosy comfort pervaded everything. Then, for the first time, the impression of home was borne in upon her mind. The cat came rubbing against them as they warmed themselves at the fire, and looked up at them with big eyes that gleamed like amber in the fire-light. It almost seemed to the girl’s excited fancy as if this animal were the genius of the place.

After a brief interval the voice of the little woman summoned them into the adjoining apartment. She inquired if they would like to ‘ ‘wash some first” before seating themselves at the table.

* ‘I guess we would like to wash our faces and hands,” agreed Mrs. Christie, “to get some of that train soot off. ’ ’

She looked at Arabella as she spoke, and added, laughing:

“That child’s most as black as a nigger.”

Miss Norris ushered them into a pair of tiny little rooms, not much bigger than the cabin of a ship, but with that all-pervading air of comfort and cleanliness which penetrated Arabella with a new delight.

“This is your room, my dear,” said the little woman, leading her thither and giving her a kindly pressure of the hand. “I hope you’ll be able to fit in the bed. It’s so very small. ”

Their ablutions being speedily made, the two were presently summoned to supper. The daintiest little table, that might have come up from fairyland, stood in the center of this second room, with its carpet of bright green, wherein flowers of various sorts grew at random. The /tablecloth was of snowy white; in its center was a New Jerusalem cherry, with its festive-looking berries. A Japanese tea-service arranged upon a silver tray appeared to Arabella very much like those things of which she had read in her fairy book. The cutlery and plated spoons were immaculately clean and polished.

MRS. CHRISTIE’S SISTER

At the end of the table was a dish of deliciously browned and still frizzling sausages. Arabella did not know what they were, the food at home being all of the more solid and heavy variety, suited to Silas Christie’s appetite. Hence this homely, but appetizing dish was quite new to her, and the more relished in her present hungry condition. They were supplemented by fried potatoes and a few slices of cold tongue, purchased from a neighboring delicatessen. Arabella, with the healthy appetite of thirteen, sharpened by the journey, presently overcame all shyness and did justice to those crisp and delicious morsels, which Miss Norris had cooked to perfection. After these were removed the hospitable hostess produced a steaming dish of pancakes, fresh from the griddle, with plenty of syrup and hot coffee. This last was a beverage which Arabella had never before tasted. With abundance of boiled milk and sugar, it tasted to her like the nectar of the gods. Mrs. Christie was in no way behind her young companion in doing justice to the viands. When her sister apologized for the want of variety, the worthy woman interrupted with her habitual truthfulness.

“It’s many a year, Alicia, since I tasted anything so good, and I don’t believe Arabella ever did in her whole life. So there ! ’ ’

Supper over, the dishes were washed up, a function in which both guests, being well accustomed to work, took a share, despite the remonstrances of their hostess. There was a brief interval after that, during which Arabella was ensconced in one of the big arm-chairs near the parlor fire, listening to her elders talk. The cat, after reconnoitering cautiously, leaped into Arabella’s lap and coiled herself up luxuriously. Mrs. Christie sent her companion to bed early, however, declaring that she must be tired out, and wouldn’t be good for anything next day. It was when Arabella was alone in her little room that she fully realized the strangeness of her surroundings.

She lay quite still in that little bed, which fitted her as closely, almost, as if she had been in a box, and which was snowy white and soft as down, and into which Miss Norris had tucked her with a good-night kiss. And lying there thus, she listened to the roar of the electric trains rushing by, and the ceaseless din of the thoroughfare, and looked at the electric light, which seemed to her so wonderful after the pitchy darkness of night in the country, shining in through the figured curtains of chintz upon the .window. Gradually the noises became indistinct to her ears, the lights began to grow blurred and faint, and she forgot her wonder, her de-

MRS. CHRISTIE’S SISTER light, and, in fact, all her rapidly succeeding impressions, in a sound and dreamless sleep, whence she awakened with a start, and in the manner hereafter to be described.

Chapter IV. The Exchange of Confidences

Mrs. Christie, tired as she was, remained up an hour or so later than Arabella, chatting with her sister before the fire, that was constantly replenished with shovelfuls of coal. She, too, like her young companion, enjoyed the rest, the quiet, so foreign to her ordinary laborious and drearily monotonous existence, though she did not yield herself thereto with the same completeness as did Arabella. Habit was too strong for her, and during her brief visit she was perpetually looking about for something to do. However, on that first night of her arrival she permitted herself the untroubled enjoyment of the arm-chair, the stillness — within doors, at least — which the noises of the thoroughfare only accentuated, and her sister’s society. Having ascertained, by tiptoeing to the door, that Arabella was really sound asleep, she proceeded to give Alicia, in her own terse and forcible way, the chief points in Arabella’s history. These were almost entirely new to Miss Norris, who had been aware only in a general way that her sister had adopted an orphan.

“Yes,” said Mrs. Christie, “we got her from the Sisters when she was little more than a baby. She didn’t know anything about that. I guess you remember when that was — near thirteen years ago. ’ ’

Alicia agreed that she did.

“Well, there ain’t much more to tell concerning that part of it,” Mrs. Christie declared. “She lived with us ever since. When she got big enough she helped with the work. ’ *

“Did you ever find out who she was?”

“Well,” answered Mrs. Christie, “the Sisters were most sure she had some rich relations because of a locket and ring that were left with her, and a few lines in writing. The jewelry was to identify her, if ever she was wanted. Mr. Christie, he never believed that anyone would come after her. He always said he guessed somebody was well rid of her. ’ ’

‘ ‘And did anyone ever come ?’ ’ Alicia inquired, eagerly. The little woman had in her composition a strong flavor of romance, and she was always weaving stories to herself there in her tiny rooms, as fairies weave beautiful fabrics out of sunbeams.

“Pm coming to that !” declared Mrs. Christie, settling herself comfortably in her chair, “But

THE EXCHANGE OF CONFIDENCES first I must tell you, the Sisters bound me to bring up the child a Catholic. ’ *

“Why, of course !” Alicia assented.

“Well, it was not so very easy,” Mrs. Christie said, shifting uncomfortably in her chair and unwilling, just then, to meet the bright, dark eyes that were fixed upon her.

“You couldn’t have brought her up anything else, dear,” piped Alicia, “since you were a Catholic yourself, and such a good one, when we went to the Sisters’ school long ago. ’ ’

Mrs. Christie’s face took on something of defiance, though her dull eyes softened, too, as she remembered the days when she used to take her little sprite of a sister by the hand and proceed to the school near the church.

“Oh, then it was easy enough,” she answered, “but when I married Silas Christie he wasn’t a Catholic. I thought at the first go-off it would be kind of easy to make him one. 1 tried, but it didn’t work worth a cent. He ain’t nothing in particular now.”

“But as long as you are,” Alicia interposed, mildly.

Mrs. Christie sighed.

“Well, to tell you the honest truth,” Mrs. Christie said, “the church is far off, and I’ve got lots of work to do on Sunday morning, and

— and Silas didn’t care very much about seeing me go there. Most of his folks are Methodists, and there ain’t no Catholics around except a few farm hands and such like, and so — ”

She paused. Alicia’s quaint little face was puckered and the big tears falling from her eyes.

“Oh, sister,’’ she cried pitifully, “don’t you remember the jewel we used to talk about, the bright jewel of faith that the teacher told us we were never to let grow dim?’’

Mrs. Christie turned upon her, irritated by her remonstrance and by the sharp pang of remembrance which shot through her heart.

“It’s easy for you, Alicia,’’ she cried, “that ain’t got any husband or people-in-law to interfere with your affairs. ’ ’

“I know, I know, dear,’’ Alicia answered, “it was hard. But what about the child?’’

And the little woman hastily dried the tears which she saw were aggravating to her sister, while Mrs. Christie, momentarily ignoring the question, continued her self-justification.